


Sing in Exultation

by bhaer



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Carol Singing, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, General Adorbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bhaer/pseuds/bhaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie is invited to church with Darcy and Gigi. Lizzie goes as a favor to Gigi. Lizzie has a revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing in Exultation

“Our parents used to take us every year, so we’ve kept up the tradition,” Gigi chattered happily. The car was heat controlled (What had Lizzie expected? This was Darcy) and the trio had shed their layers. Lizzie felt underdressed in her lace skirt and blue blouse, the same outfit she’d worn to her college graduation. Gigi was glowing in what Lizzie could only imagine was a dress made by some famous designer. Darcy was wearing a sport coat. 

“I had no idea you guys were religious,” Lizzie said. What else to say? She was in a climate-controlled car driven by a full-time chauffer, whizzing to a Catholic Mass. The Bennet family hadn’t attended their own sleepy Episcopal parish since the pastor’s brother had been single and eyeing Jane. 

“Gigi more than I. I simply enjoy the ceremony, especially at Christmas,” Darcy said. It was the first thing he’d said in a while, except for when he said that Lizzie looked lovely and Lizzie had felt pleased but awkward and annoyed and now what not the time to think of that.

“They always decorate so nicely. I think the best part of Christmas is when the trees has been up for a few days and the whole house smells like evergreen,” Gigi said. Lizzie blanched? _Trees?_ As in multiple trees? The Bennet household had one tree, a scraggly plastic contraption that lived in the attic for eleven months out of the year.

Lizzie had hated Darcy for his money. Part of her hated that these two kids inherited a fortune and spent it on multiple Christmas trees when her family… For the second time that night, Lizzie found herself pushing her thoughts back. Not now. 

Still, it was hard to feel sorry for her own financial situation when Gigi Darcy, the sweetest, most adorable girl on earth prattled on about the Tiffany necklace her brother had gotten her and how their housekeeper made the best gingerbread cookies. 

“I particularly like the giving of gifts,” Darcy said. 

“I like the food,” Lizzie said. Silence descended on the car. Darcy was looking out the window, into a rare Los Angeles flurry. Gigi fiddled with the hem of her dress.

There was no way around it but everything was awkward. Lizzie had accepted her burgeoning relationship with Gigi Darcy. Gigi was kind and pretty and didn’t gloat when she inevitably won at tennis. Lizzie had even grown moderately comfortable when Darcy, the elephant in the room, appeared on her and Gigi’s hangouts. She was interning at his company and he had been really, weirdly polite lately. They ignored his outburst, her videos, and their shared knowledge… They didn’t really talk at all, really.

But this? Being invited to church with them the week before Christmas? Lizzie understood they were orphans but she longed to fly home to her own family. In two days she’d be helping Lydia put tinsel in Jane’s hair when she wasn’t looking… 

Church felt oddly personal. She normally hung out with Gigi at the country club she and Darcy were members of. Sometimes they had lunch dates or chatted in an empty conference room at Pemberley. The invitation had come as a shock, a sudden step in their friendship. And for Darcy to be there. Lizzie felt vaguely nauseous.

“So I bought Jane this cool scrapbook for Christmas,” Lizzie found herself saying. Yes. Make noise. That’s good. Conversation makes things less weird.

“That’s sweet! Is she a photographer?” Gigi asked.

“No,” Lizzie said, relaxing as she fell into a comfortable groove, “But Jane always collects ticket stubs and stuff like that. She’s crafty.” 

“It’s a very thoughtful gift,” Darcy said. Lizzie found herself looking at him and he at her. She paled and turned to Gigi.

“It’s really hard to find presents for siblings, isn’t it? I mean, I have sisters so we share everything anyway,” She said quickly, her memory burning with Darcy’s eyes… No. No. Stop.

“It’s harder with brothers. You can’t buy them jewelry,” Gigi giggled. 

“We’re here,” Darcy said.

The car had stopped.

Darcy held the door open for Gigi and Lizzie, the wind curling his hair. Lizzie avoided looking at him. She felt shaken and desperately wished they were back in the car, talking about banal things.

St. Jane’s looked foreboding surrounded by the halo of snowflakes, soon to be melted. It was a mass of steeples and crosses and statues of stern looking men in nightgowns. Lizzie shivered, though it was warm outside. 

Gigi saw a friend of hers who she had attended parochial school with as a child and ran ahead, leaving Lizzie and Darcy alone. Darcy’s lips were slightly upturned and snowflakes were collecting in the nape of his neck. Lizzie shivered again. She wondered if she were coming down with something.

“Between us, I don’t believe in God, but it makes Gigi happy to see me here,” Darcy said. Lizzie felt sick. This was what she had been scared of. Personal revelations from Darcy frightened her. She already knew he had an adorable little sister studying Music Theory and a company she secretly admired and a tabby cat named Wentworth. That was too much. He was becoming too real, too fragile and she scared if she touched him he would shatter.

“I don’t really do church. I mean, I’m not like an atheist, but I don’t like practice anything except when I was thirteen and tried to be Buddhist…” Lizzie knew she was rambling. She swallowed hard and looked in Darcy’s eyes. His blue eyes, not his grin or his neck slick with aftershave, or his tousled black hair…

“I took a philosophy class in college and it entirely cured of any such beliefs. Still, they give my sister comfort and for that I’m grateful,” Darcy said. They both glanced up and saw Gigi screaming “Fanny!” and running into another girl’s arms. 

“Your sister’s definitely popular,” Lizzie said. Yes, she’d move the conversation to Gigi, their common link. Innocent ground.

“People are drawn to her. She’s so kind,” Darcy said. Lizzie nodded. Gigi was laughing raucously with Fanny.

“Thanks for being okay with this. I didn’t know if you’d be okay if I crashed your family thing when Gigi invited me,” Lizzie said. Formalities out of the way. Good.

“I’m honored for you to be here,” Darcy said. Lizzie found herself smiling. Her mouth was definitely smiling. She hadn’t meant to start smiling. Shit. This was supposed to be a totally awkward night she could recreate on her video blog…

“I was just going to eat cookie dough and watch Bridget Jones with Charlotte, so this is an improvement,” Lizzie said. Darcy smiled. Lizzie smiled. She felt sick.

“Anne Eliot invited me to her house after this,” Gigi called. Lizzie felt shaken. She walked quickly to Gigi, who was surrounded by a crowd of girls.

“Lizzie! I have to introduce you. This is Anne, Fanny, Harriet… We all went to St. Jane’s together until high school. This is Lizzie. She’s my brother’s friend and she’s totally awesome,” Gigi said. Lizzie blushed. _Darcy’s friend?_ She had always assumed she was Gigi’s friend and Darcy was that awkward thing that she saw every so often. He reminded her of how small he made her feel and how guilty she felt and how his smile… No. Stop. Not now. 

“We should go in,” Darcy said from behind Lizzie. Gigi said goodbye to her crowd and swept herself in the church, like a golden-haired angel, her floral dress swaying. Lizzie, acutely aware she was stuck behind with Darcy again, followed. 

The inside of the church was massive. Mahogany pews were stuffed with people who were all better dressed than Lizzie and on every side she was faced by a stained glass saint watching her with jeweled eyes.  
Gigi had a favorite spot she ushered them to. The fit was tight and Lizzie found herself pressing against Darcy’s side. His velvet sports coat rubbed against her bare arms. 

Darcy reached for a missal and thumbed through it. Lizzie expected him, the self-professed college atheist to look bored, but he flipped the pages with a sort of vague interest. She liked that he went for Gigi. She liked that Gigi, who was all smiles and warm feelings, had someone to go with her. 

Gigi had her own missal, retrieved from a pocket. It was beautifully illuminated with watercolor illustrations and elaborate script. Seeing Lizzie stare, Gigi grinned. “Last year’s birthday,” She said, gestured to Darcy, who pretended not to hear.

A woman in a silk scarf walked up the podium by the altar and told the congregation to turn off their cell phones. Darcy pulled a blackberry out his pocket and made a show of silencing it while Gigi glowed. 

And then they started singing and it all went downhill from there.

Lizzie didn’t have that many Christmas carols memorized. It was mostly _Santa Baby_ and _Jingle Bell Rock_ in the Bennet Household, with _Last Christmas_ when her parents were feeling sentimental. Jane, queen of every holiday ever, played some _Santa Claus Is Coming To Town_. Lydia liked the Glee Christmas soundtrack and would blast Darren Criss on repeat from Thanksgiving until New Year’s. 

Still, the songs from Lizzie’s one month at Sunday school came back quickly and she found she knew all the words to _Oh Come All Ye Faithful_. Gigi, apparently, was a brilliant singer as well as a brilliant everything else. Lizzie, feeling more tone deaf than ever, sang low.

What really screwed the night up was Darcy. Darcy, with his loud, expansive voice. He was out of tune in the worst way and on the high notes his voice cracked audibly but he sang with such gusto and force that Lizzie felt embarrassed at her own pathetic attempt. 

Gigi took his hand and he gripped it. Lizzie felt something warm burn behind her sternum. She felt nauseous and cold and wanted to be on Charlotte’s couch, lusting over the impossible Colin Firth. She felt exposed and painful, standing up in a strange, castle-like building.

For a moment, Lizzie felt faint. 

And then, it fell apart in the worst way. Darcy took her hand in his own and squeezed it hard. His skin was rough and cracking and his grip with almost painful.  
Lizzie paused midsentence.

With the refrain ( _Sing choirs of angels, sing in exultation_ ) it hit her. It hit her with the force of a truck or an avalanche or one of the ominous poinsettia creations hanging from the church’s ceiling. It hit her and she gasped.

Lizzie loved Darcy. She loved his thin lips (and imagined them all over her) and his calloused hands that needed to be moisturized and his dress shirt buttoned to the top and how he looked with the snow in his hair and how he sang like an idiot to make his sister happy and how he loved Lizzie. He loved her after she had stomped all over him and he held her hand in church and he helped her set up her desk from IKEA and he was so heartbreakingly wonderful that Lizzie felt like she’d been slapped.

She squeezed his hand harder, harder, and sang louder.


End file.
